Claiming Addison (34 page)

There are flashes of the past few days that run through my mind. Kyle helping me dress with a migraine, Kyle holding me up while I waited for my boys to plant their kisses, Kyle feeding me, then Talon skipping out on the party to be with me while I slept. The way they pleasure me in bed and the aftercare they provide after they’ve had their way with me.

My heart shatters the moment I realize that there is a damn good possibility that I just completely screwed up anything I may have had with Talon. Kyle I don’t see running from what just happened, but Talon has already said he’s fragile and that he will fuck up, he asked for patience and I agreed to give it to him and this is how I treat him the first time he does something nice for me.

I begin to cry, upset and angry with myself for what I’ve done, what I’ve said. I want to take it all back. Then comes a knock at the door, “Angel?”

Just the nickname alone tells me that it’s Talon who’s come after me. Which, if I have a choice of the two, he is probably the better option since I just blew my cork at him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about this. “Come on, angel, please, open the door. I’m not mad and I’m sorry. Please?”

Fuck. He apologized to me, damn it. I reach my hand up and unlock the door. “Don’t open it yet,” I say. “Give me a minute.” I get up and go for the bathrobe on the back of the door. Shedding my clothes out there means I’m nearly naked in here and this isn’t the kind of conversation to have like that.

Once I have the robe on, I open the door. My red eyes meet his worried, almost petrified eyes. “Can I come in?” I nod and he steps inside, taking the door from me and closing it softly.

“Talon...”

“I’m sorry,” we say together. “You first,” he says with a smirk.

“I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry.” I wipe a stray tear from my cheek and he gives me a sad smile.

“This is all pretty overwhelming, isn’t it?” I nod and take a seat on the bed. “We can take the stuff back.”

“No, don’t do that. It’s just, Talon, I’m not used to this. I’ve spent so much time alone that having one is hard enough but having both of you has my mind in a tailspin. Please, tell me you understand that.”

He nods, “I do understand it. I understand it because this is a first for me too. I don’t…” He pauses, runs his hand over his messy facial hair and looks me square in the eye. “I don’t do relationships, Addison, I never have. I never thought I wanted one, but all of that is changing with you and Kyle. I don’t know what to do to make you happy.”

My heart bleeds at his words. “Talon, you do make me happy, extremely happy. I don’t need ten grand worth of clothes to make me happy. I need you and I need Kyle, and I need to be able to be me, too.”

“I know, angel, and I forgot that and I’m sorry. I warned you I was going to screw up.”

I shake my head. “Talon, you didn’t screw up. If anyone did, it was me. Instead of being happy and thankful for your gifts, I threw them back in your face and for that I’m sorry, but you have to see where all of this makes me so confused. I don’t know what I’m feeling or why I’m feeling this way, but I can’t even begin to imagine feeling any differently than I do right now.” I take a deep breath, “I nearly broke my own heart out there.”

He comes to kneel in front of me. The gesture and the look in his eyes is so sweet and pleading that I almost want to cry again. He takes my hands in his. “Addison, this is the kind of stuff we need to talk about. I understand why you’re upset, but this is minor and worth talking about, not screaming at each other. I bought you clothes because I wanted you to feel sexy, to feel the way I see you. Kyle bought you clothes because he wants you to be comfortable with receiving things from both of us, together or separate. Our buying you clothes wasn’t meant to cut you down or break you apart. It was meant to lift you.” He kisses my hands that are resting in his. “I want you to feel comfortable around us, to feel appreciated and admired because that is how Kyle and I feel about you. You’re a strong, independent, amazing woman.”

I blink back more tears. “Do you want to know why I do the things that I do for people?” He nods. “I do them because they make them happy and seeing them happy makes me happy. Is it selfish? Sure, in a way, but the person on the receiving end gets the glory, I get the reward. So buying all this stuff for me gives me the glory and it is not something I know how to handle very well. I’ve always been the girl in the shadows, the girl behind the scenes, hiding from the crowd because that is where I feel I belong. You and Kyle put me on a pedestal that I’m not ready to stand on. I don’t wear clothing that shows off my ink because it puts me on that pedestal. I keep my ink to myself because it makes me appreciate a true piece of art, not because someone else enjoys it for a while and discards it like it was nothing. Which is how I’ve lived my life-in the discard pile. Ready when someone needs me and then back into the pile I go.” I pull my hands free of his to wipe my eyes and take a shuddering breath. “You’ve got to give me time to grow, time to change a lifetime of habits, emotions and insecurities.”

“I think it’s time I told you a story,” he says as he sits on the floor in front of me. “Do you know why I play the guitar?” I shake my head. He smiles, “Not many people do. But I am going to tell you. I started when I was five. I started because if I kept busy at something, I wouldn’t get into trouble. Getting into trouble in my house meant getting your ass beat. Getting in trouble meant being put on display for the entire house to see, made fun of and paraded. It also meant a punishment far worse than any belt or wooden spoon could give you.” He reaches for the back of his shirt and begins pulling it over his head. It dawns on me now that I’ve never actually looked at Talon’s back, at least not like this.

He turns around on the floor and leans forward. Running along his spine is a series of tattoos that look like words but the design mimics that of a heart monitor reading where words flare into a triangle on one side of the invisible line and then to the other and back and forth.

It says

Take

My scars Hide them away Save me From

The

Man who

Tries to take me Away from The

Person I’m trying to Become. The man I want to be Desperate To be

Free

When you get to Free it starts over again until it melts into a flat line.

T

O

B

E

F

R

E

E

It is then that the light catches just right and I see one scarred line, then another and another, now that I know what I’m seeing they’re popping up everywhere. I break into a sob that I can no longer hold back.

“Addison,” he says, his voice is a pain filled whisper. I slide onto the floor and wrap my arms around him, gently kissing his scars. “Angel, please, stop.”

“I can’t,” I breathe.

“I was trapped by my father and my mother didn’t stop him. She simply bought me things, got me things, snuck me candy and all the things my father would never let me have. She never said I love you to me, she never hugged me or held me when I would cry.” I can hear the emotion in his voice. He’s crying. “The only way I know how to show someone affection is to buy them things, give them things. Which is why sleeping with different woman, never getting attached, was easy for me; I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know any other way.”

I squeeze him tighter, holding him to me while he cries. I’ve always known that musicians who write their own music find inspiration from life, not always the good, and many times it’s the bad, and now something about the song he wrote last night hits me. Giving, giving is all he knows how to do, so he is giving me a song. ‘Your Eyes’ certainly wasn’t written for me, but it was my favorite song. This song, his new song is a gift from him to me, his way of telling me how he feels. “I want to hear your song. The one you wrote last night.” He stiffens in my arms. “I want to sing it with you.”

“Addison, I…” He takes a breath, this time he’s calming himself. “It’s not ready.”

A small smile spreads across my lips. “It’s not ready or you’re not ready?”

“I’m not.”

I close my eyes slowly. “I’m ready to hear it, when you’re ready to sing it.” I kiss his back again and he turns around, breaking our contact. He wraps his arms around me. “Ow! Ow!”

“Shit, Addie, damn it, I forgot.”

I start laughing because he is positively paranoid that he really hurt me. “So did I.” I lean in and kiss him once, twice and then the third time he holds me to him. The pain in my ribs and the pain in his eyes forgotten, if only for a moment, this moment, right here.

“I want you to meet her.”

“Who? Your mother?”

“Yes, my mother.” I hesitate to respond, I don’t know how I feel about that. “She’s not that woman anymore, Addison. Trust me.”

“If your mother never stopped your father from hitting you, how can you not hate her?”

His eyes grow weary. “Because, for every time he didn’t hit me, he hit her ten times harder. She put herself between him and me and when he would get to me, it was usually after he already beat her and he wasn’t satisfied with just that.”

“How did you get out?” I breathe.

“We lived in a small town, so everybody knew what went on. The doctors at the clinic had finally had enough when my father broke her cheekbone and jaw, and I ended up with a broken wrist. They’d had enough. Child services was called and because she was a victim, they told her to get out or they’d take me away. So she did.” He rubs at his left wrist; I’m guessing that’s the one his father broke. “We lived on the streets. I’d sing and play guitar to make money for food. After a couple of years she finally had enough and figured out her shit and got us off of the streets. After that I went back to school. I decided that I would make something of myself and I graduated with academic honors in high school and was awarded a full scholarship to Penn State. That’s where I met Kyle. We got to talking one night and I picked up my guitar, a random act I would do when things got too intense, and he saw what he thought he’d seen when he met me. He said he knew a couple of guys who were looking for a lead singer. I went, auditioned and after sixty-nine bottles of beer, we had a name for ourselves and the rest is history, or so they say.”

With one conversation I’ve gone from being a blubbering mess over my own shit to crying over Talon’s. From hating his mom one second and to completely in love with her by the end. “Yes,” I say, “I’d love to meet your mother.”

He smiles. “She’s the reason we’re staying in Philly for a couple of days. That’s where she lives. When we signed with the label, I gave her a choice of where she wanted to live. She chose Philly, so I built her a house.”

I smile and laugh. “I think that’s what all rock stars do when they get their first check. It’s not a guitar or a house or a big fancy car, they buy a house for their mother.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Well, Talon Carver, you’re certainly one of a kind. Now if you don’t mind, I have a party to get ready for.” He kisses me quick then stands, pulling me with him. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

He gives me a half smile. “Believe me, it wasn’t my intent, but it was warranted. Not that I wouldn’t have told you eventually, it just seemed appropriate today.” He slips his t-shirt back over his head.

“I couldn’t agree more. Now go.” I swat him on the ass.

“Yes, ma’am.” I scowl and he laughs as he opens the door, leaving me to get ready for tonight.